


My Turn, My Friend.

by Bertholdtssean



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blind Soldier: 76, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fights, Hurt No Comfort, Jack gets his revenge, M/M, Old men can’t be happy, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:28:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22046398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bertholdtssean/pseuds/Bertholdtssean
Summary: After five years of seeking out the Reaper, Jack Morrison is finally given the option to put a bullet in his head.
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Comments: 1
Kudos: 33





	My Turn, My Friend.

“Goddammit Reyes!” Another punch to a masked face, more smoke. He couldn’t get a clear hit, not with all the smoke, not with the disintegration. He screamed out in frustration as a shotgun knocked deep against his face, causing a crack to form across the glass of his visor. He saw the warning screens, heard the loud screeching of his ears from deep within his head, and yet he continued to fight, throwing another punch directly at the Reaper mask. The fog simply continued to form in place of flesh, leaving the Soldier coughing, trying to capture his breath. Punches were continuously being thrown, trying to get some sort of hit in, and yet each time, Reaper avoided the fists being thrown violently in his direction.

“Stop wraithing away like a coward. You used to beat the shit out of me on the mats, broke my nose a few times, I know it’s in you. Come on Ga-bri-el, fuckin’ HIT ME!” he now screamed, purposefully drawing out the Talon agents name in order to upset him. He knew that his Gabriel was long gone, left for dead. The Gabriel that he’d known all those years ago wouldn’t have become this thing of the night, certainly wouldn’t have joined an agency that nearly ended his life. That wasn’t the Gabriel that he’d fought with, cried with, mourned with. That wasn’t his best friend anymore. He was a terrorist, nothing more. 

But the taunting seemed to work. Another shotgun slammed against his visor and Jack fell back on his ass, sight immediately going blurry. The screen he saw through had been broken, meaning Jack didn’t have anything to help aid him during this fight except for the sounds around him. Blindness took over him in a wave, causing a moment of panic. He ripped the visor off of his face, trying to adjust. Sounds weren’t exactly prominent when the thing you were fighting could turn into gas right before your eyes. He didn’t have enough time to think as he felt a heavy weight fall onto his legs, which he could immediately recognize to be Reaper. A clawed hand gripped agonizingly tightly against his jaw, inspecting him. He heard a metallic laugh, and then received a fierce blow directly to the jaw.  
“You’re blind. Old age finally caught up to you, huh, Jackie? This is going to be too easy,” came the Reapers voice, taunting him, knowing damn good and well that Jack would get fired up— he always did.

His rifle was knocked out of his hand, skidding away somewhere that Jack wouldn’t be able to find given his poor sight. There was always the Mauser that lay strapped to his thigh, but that handgun only had one bullet in it, and Jack was reserving it for himself, just Incase things got a little too rough. Suicide wasn’t something he thought about in the midst of battle though, and Jack found himself spitting a tooth out of his gums from where he’d been hit, only to be punched again. Pain ruptured though his face and into his temples, causing a pounding headache that certainly wasn’t designed to help warrant off the hangover that he already had from the previous night. 

Before he could be punched again, Jack flailed, using every ounce of energy in him possible to gain enough momentum to throw Gabriel off of him, throwing a punch in mid air and only hoping that it would hit Gabriel. His hand was caught by the wraith and twisted back against the feeling of cold metal claws, causing an ache to shoot directly up his arm and ignite a deepset groan to fall from the innards of his throat. He heard the laugh of the Reaper, cold and deep, sounding almost like an Omnic. Soldier: 76 was well aware of the fact that his good arm was most likely broken, sprained in the least. 

Leaning back, the soldier kicked directly into Gabriel’s stomach, causing the Reaper to fall back. Jack grabbed the Mauser from his thigh holster and slammed it against Gabriel’s face, only to find the mask. He ripped it off with his good hand before he felt faux claws tear through his back, causing a waterfall of blood to just pour through his undershirt, soak into his kevlon jacket. He screamed, punching Gabriel in the face just about wherever he could. He felt sticky blood soaking through his clothes, and he knew he was crying, but he didn’t care. 

Jack Morrison never would have wanted to kill his best friend. Jack was a man for strategy, doing things by the book. Morals were his greatest ally when Gabriel couldn’t be all those years ago, and he found that out incredibly quickly. Violence never solved anything except for the war, and even then, so many repercussions had backfired up onto him. He obtained his ptsd, a hatred for any omnic larger than him. He couldn’t bare to hear things louder than a shout, and even the sound of gunshots made him uneasy. Jack Morrison was a golden boy, and Gabriel Reyes was his best friend. 

Unfortunately, this wasn’t Jack Morrison. This was Soldier: 76. The blind, alcoholic vigilante that kicked ass despite the PTSD, dissociative states. Even then, Soldier: 76 wouldn’t have killed Gabriel Reyes. Because even 76 knew all the good that Gabriel had brought him, the happy emotions, the calming down when he needed it the most. Gabriel Reyes had attended his parents’ funeral and even gave a memorial speech. Gabriel Reyes made Jack the best man at his wedding all those years ago, allowed Jack to hold his son when he was born. So it really was a shame that Gabriel Reyes had died in the explosion, and the Reaper had surfaced. 

With every memory, another punch was thrown to the reapers face. Memories of being shot, memories of Ana being attacked. He could recall the screams of his teams as the explosion rang true. More punches, more blood warm blood splattered onto his face. He screamed through all of it, ripping the dogtags from his own neck, using the chain to wrap around his knuckles and hit Gabriel again and again and 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧, until he heard the gurgling of blood and the Reaper’s hands going limp beneath him. He could feel Gabriel’s body struggling to surface beneath him, remain steady enough to keep him stable. 

He didn’t have much time. Jack cocked the Mauser and held it to Gabriel’s head, knowing it was still solid. Blood ran down his face, dripping onto Gabriel’s, even as he whispered his final words to the wraith.  
“This is how it was always going to be. You made your choice all those years ago, and now I’m making mine. I hope you rot, Reyes.” He whispered in softest, most gentle tone he could suffice, and with a final breath, pulled the trigger to his handgun. 

The rest was a blur. Gabriel went still beneath him before completely turning to fog, Jack couldn’t see to tell where he went. He was crying tears of fear and happiness, but also incredible grief. He yanked a biotic field canister from his shoulder strap and slammed it onto the ground, soaking up the sweet, sweet feeling of warmth in his body. 

Jack fell asleep against the heat, blood beginning to get splotchy against his clothing. He was probably dying, despite the faint glow of healing. That was alright. He could die knowing that he put a bullet in the Reapers head.


End file.
